


Suptober Day 29: Fragile

by tiamatv



Series: Promptober 2020 [28]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Author!Castiel, Domesticity, Fireman!Dean, Hurt Castiel (Supernatural), M/M, Mutual Pining, POV Jody Mills, Sheriff Partners Donna and Jody, Supportive neighbors, Sweet Dean Winchester, suburban life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:33:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27295720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiamatv/pseuds/tiamatv
Summary: “Really?” Jody asks, blankly. “I mean… you’re serious?”“Yes, Cas's really coming over for Halloween,” Dean grumbles, finally. “So don’t be mean to him, okay?”“Oh, you don’t say,” Jody answers, her tongue poking firmly into the inside of her cheek. “And here I was planning to pull out the bullwhips!”(In the same universe as Day 13: Ladies, Day 18: Dark and Stormy, Day 19: Mirror Sex, Day... oh good grief.)
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Donna Hanscum/Jody Mills
Series: Promptober 2020 [28]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1954990
Comments: 43
Kudos: 220





	Suptober Day 29: Fragile

**Author's Note:**

> Gaaah, so I'm now officially one day behind. Like, really one day behind. Well, I made it almost the whole month. And I WILL catch up tomorrow--and Sunday if I have to!
> 
> Still not sure I've got Jody's voice, mmph. I'll have to work on it, I guess... for now, here, have the boyos' Halloween date. Sort of.

Jody has to admit, she’s a little… surprised.

“Really?” she asks, blankly. “I mean… you’re serious?”

Dean scowls at her and crosses his arms defensively over his chest. It isn’t even remotely intimidating. Then he tries to _loom_ over her, and that’s when Jody starts laughing.

Dean’s lower lip pooches outwards. He rocks back on his heels, and now the pretty fireman who took over the tiny one-bedroom house next door just looks _sulky_ , his eyebrows almost meeting at the middle between his eyes as he scowls. “I didn’t trade shifts to be off on Halloween to be _mocked_ ,” he announces, like this should be some kind of shock to the world.

“Dean, I haven’t even known you a _year_ and I already know you love Halloween more than is probably healthy, so yes, I think you actually did,” Jody teases.

Jody sometimes wonders what he’d do if she tried to pinch his cheeks. She suspects that Dean _thinks_ he’s commanding—he’s big, sure, and she still thinks that God was playing some kind of joke on the world to make anyone that good-looking. But the boy’s a little goofy, and he’s sweet through and through. She’s almost sure that Dean Winchester’s more successful at getting what he wants when he’s being cute than when he’s trying to be scary.

Lucky for him, he’s _very_ cute.

Lucky for everyone else, he hasn’t figured out that that’s his best weapon, and he still tries to be the big ol’ badass.

(Again: _adorable_.)

“Yes, really,” he grumbles, finally. “So don’t be mean to him, okay?”

“Oh, you don’t say,” Jody answers, her tongue poking firmly into the inside of her cheek. “And here I was planning to pull out the bullwhips!”

“Kinky,” Dean answers, smirking.

Okay, Jody might have to admit she walked into that one.

“How’d you talk him into that, though?” she asks, curiously. “He never comes to neighborhood things. People have stopped even leaving flyers on his doorstep or asking his permission to post on the streetlights outside his place.” They were city property, of course, those streetlights, and anyone could post on them whatever they wanted, but most people considered it at least _polite_ to ask the owner of the house they were in front of! There had been that ‘tantrick tai-chi’ seminar that Gloria Jenkins had wanted to teach after taking some kind of an online course about it, but at least the HOA had put a stop to that one right quick.

Jody might swing in that direction now and again, and even _she_ doesn’t need to see Mrs. Jenkins in that light.

“Well, I don’t know anything about that,” Dean answers, sort of sniffily for a man who’s leaning on Jody’s kitchen countertop and finishing off Donna’s half-empty bag of thin-and-crispy tortilla chips with a loud, happy crunch. “But he’s coming over for Halloween.”

“Candy for the kids and all?”

“Candy for the kids and all,” Dean agrees, and grins. “Can you believe he’s never done it?”

Well, Jody would say that yes, she can, his was the only house on the block last year _and_ the year before with dark windows and no decorations. To the point where the kids stopping at their door asked her why she lived next to a haunted house. But she’s been trying to keep her unkindness about their neighbor under the bushel, because there’s clearly more to all that than she’d realized.

Yeah, some sheriff she is!

Jody laughs. “Oh, you two are going to be the most disgusting cute thing that ever littered up the neighborhood, aren’t you? Never thought anyone would romance _that_ guy out of his house, but if anyone ever could do it, it’s you—”

And Dean’s smile is gone so fast that Jody actually stops dead mid-sentence, and Donna, Alex or _anyone_ would tell the whole world that that’s not something that happens often.

Dean ducks his head and scratches the back of his neck, hard enough to ruffle up his short brown hair, and that’s not the charm and flirting that he does like breathing. “Uh… yeah, Jodes. It’s… I know you’re just joking—you are, right?”

“Uh.” She really wasn’t. “Sure…?”

“Yeah, okay,” Dean rushes back in before Jody’s voice has even finished tilting up on the question. “Anyway, it’s not like that, don’t…” One corner of his mouth tries for a smile, because it’s like he can’t help but try, but it doesn’t quite make it. “It’s not like that.”

Jody waits for the ‘yet.’

It doesn’t come.

She stares. “Haven’t you been, like… bringing him food for, y’know, nearly two months, now? And he’s not in love with you yet? You must be losing your touch, Dean.” And when Dean looks up, looking shocked, she snorts. “Look, I work hours, but there are three of us living here, and you know you have to _walk past_ our house to get to his. Also, you _whistle_ when you’re leaving his place. You know that?”

“Oh,” Dean says.

No, maybe he didn’t know that.

A second ago, she’d have said ‘you whistle like you’re coming home from some nookie.’ Because he _did_. The other day, Donna complained that she was jealous of how much lovin’ Dean must be getting. (Jody made her take that back.)

But Dean puts down the bag of tortilla chips with a soft crinkle and crunch on the counter, which is how Jody knows he’s serious.

“Maybe just…” He shifts on his feet, and tries to haul his shoulders back to look big, but he drops the effort after a second, and sighs. “I know you and me kind of give each other shit a lot, that’s just the way we roll.” He flicks a finger back and forth between them. “But, um… Maybe don’t say stuff like that around him? It’s just…”

If Castiel hasn’t noticed how happy Dean looks by the time he’s heading home, then he’s missing _eyes_ as well as that hand of his. The boy’s a ray of tall, pretty sunshine, make no mistake; he’s that way even on jobs, always joking and jostling with his firehouse boys whenever they’re all called out to something that, in their town, is more likely to be an idiot who tried to microwave tinfoil than a five-alarm fire.

But he’s been even _happier_ the past month.

There’s been cookies every weekend. And now with Halloween coming up? Jody’s real afraid of what her scale’s going to say next month.

“’Cause you haven’t made your move?” she asks, curiously. What’s the hold-up?

Dean recoils against the counter so hard he must give himself a bruise. “Jesus _Christ_ , Jodes. Don’t… shit.” But he rubs a hand down his face, and the other grips the edge of the countertop. Jody knows that look. She hasn’t seen it often, not in their peaceful little town, but the look of someone who just lost their footing on the edge of a high fall and just barely pulled back. “No. No moves to be makin’.”

But Jody thought for _sure…_ heck, Donna’s been so smug about it, and they’ve been happy to let her be. She’s been so smug about it all she’s been doing is throwing smug grinning glances at Dean’s face when he’s been over for dinner without so much as a single smug peep. And since all that smug has just kind of bounced off the boy next door like a handful of rubber balls out of the supermarket toy dispenser, even _Alex_ said, “Mom, just give it a rest, you gotta wait a couple months before he’s even gonna notice. New Relationship Energy is like that.”

(Their teenager is weirdly invested in the whole thing. Jody really doesn’t know what to think about that. Also, what the Sam Hill is New Relationship Energy?)

Maybe they were _all_ reading this wrong. What does she know, anyway?

But for all that _Jody_ knows she’s an idiot about this kind of thing, _Donna_ often isn’t. And when she says “ _Whoo_ , Dean’s got a bad case of the sunshines,” she’s not wrong.

“Aw, _Dean_ ,” Jody says, softly.

“Shit,” Dean says again, quietly, and sighs. This time, the smile he flashes her makes it up to his cheekbones before it dies out. It’s a better effort, though that sort of makes it worse. “It’s nothing, ‘kay? Hell. I don’t even know if he’s… well, I guess it doesn’t matter one way or another anyway.”

Oh. Well, if it’s just that Dean doesn’t know what kind of flag Castiel’s flying… alright, in rural South Dakota there’s no ‘just’ about that. But even as Jody opens her mouth, she knows she’s not going to out her neighbor if he hasn’t done it himself, dammit. She is a lot of things, but a gossipy neighborhood busybody she is _not_. (There can’t be two of them living in this house, they’d make each other nuts.)

But just the way Dean said that… Jody frowns and redirects. “What do you mean by that, Dean Winchester?” she asks, sternly.

“Nothing.” Dean’s mouth pinches soft and sad before he shakes his head. “Anyway, I think you’ll like him. Hope so, anyway? He’s real quiet, but he’s _awesome_.” This time the smile makes it all the way to his eyes, because he means _this_. He scoops up the tortilla bag again and nearly sticks his face into the bag with how hard he’s trying to escape from the conversation. “Hey, how come there are only the little bits of chips left?”

If there’s one thing that raising a teenager has taught Jody Mills, though, it’s how to let things go before imminent shutdown. “I dunno,” she jokes instead. “Check with your stomach?”

Jody breaks the news to Donna, later, as they’re getting ready for bed, and her partner stops dead in the middle of the bedroom, toothbrush in her mouth and nightshirt dangling from her fingers. She garbles something. It doesn’t need any translation.

“Yeah,” Jody agrees, with a sigh, scooting a little further up the headboard and wrapping the blanket around her legs to make a proper cocoon. Good thing the weather’s going to brighten up for Halloween: Donna’s fox costume is furry and cozy, but Jody’s Puss in Boots tight black pants, even though they _do_ make her legs look really good, don’t exactly cut the wind.

Donna hurries to their ensuite, swishes and spits. “Oh, you are _kidding_ me,” she repeats, turning around, this time without foam.

“Wish I were,” Jody answers, and she means it. “Anyway, so we’re not to say a thing about them being a cute couple, ‘cause they’re not one.” Though if Dean doesn’t realize how badly he’s been broadcasting how much he’d really like it if they were, he must think they _all_ lack working eyeballs.

“Maybe there was no chemistry?” Donna pulls on her nightgown like she can’t have this talk just dressed in her panties. Jody grumbles a little, but Donna rolls her eyes. Yes, yes, Jody knows she still doesn’t like to sleep naked after all these years, something weird about the way the sheets feel.

“I dunno.” Jody doesn’t think that’s it. Neither does Donna, from the sound of it.

“Well, If he hurts our Dean-O, I’m gonna—” and Donna drops the end off of that as she must realize that her normal threat of ‘cut off all his fingers and toes’ just sounds _especially_ vicious when it comes to Castiel. “You think maybe he’s just not interested? ‘Cause Dean, oh, he is _interested_.”

Jody shrugs and lifts up a corner of the sheet, gesturing hurriedly for Donna to get in before the warmth slips out. “Guess we’ll see.”

But Dean’s back in full sunshine form by the time Halloween rolls around. He didn’t do very much with his house, but his little _lawn_ is a marvel. The graveyard with all the monster parts crawling out of it is plenty neat—all the bones and zombie bits, sure, but a vampire head poking out with just its top fangs showing, that looks like Frankenstein’s arm over there, and, Jody’s favorite, a werewolf bum complete with tail, like it’s digging its way into the soil. Donna likes the seaweedy bits and dozens of big eyeballs that are supposed to be the Swamp Thing crawling out of Dean’s little flower box.

The house on the other side of them’s still dark, though. Jody wonders if Dean offered to help Castiel decorate. Should they have offered?

Well, nah. They’re not neighborly yet.

Dean’s tiny porch doesn’t have much room for two to settle comfortably and offer candy unless they’re both willing to take the little porch swing Dean installed—and with two men it’d probably be kind of a tight fit anyway, but it fits her and Donna real nice; she’s been thinking of asking him if he’d help put one on their back deck.

Well, maybe they’ll get to that another time. Today, Dean’s got his setup in the middle of his spooky little graveyard instead, and two lawn chairs with towels and cushions thrown over. No waiting for the doorbell for him, no sir.

Jody waves at him. “Winchester!” she hollers, then points at the containers overflowing with candy in front of each of the chairs. “Geez, those bowls, or are they buckets?!”

He's dressed as a cowboy in a Clint Eastwood spaghetti Western, one of those old cheesy things him and Donna watch together and Alex can’t get away from fast enough. With a big stripey serape on top, too. It ain’t even a little sexy. But, well, at least he looks warm, and no-one’s ever been happier to be wearing a shawl than that boy, she can say that.

Dean gives her a thumbs up to match a smile that’s all teeth. “If you gotta ask, then I did it right!”

Jody laughs. “How many kids do you think we get ‘round these parts, anyway?!”

Dean looks down at his candy, frowning. “Wait, you mean I was supposed to have stuff for the _kids_?”

They’re so busy joking at each other that Donna, in her favorite big cuddly fox onesie with the ears on the hood and the little faces on the feet has to clear her throat a couple of times and finally just whack Jody hard on the hip—almost making the fake sword on her Puss in Boots costume swing her around—before she turns.

Castiel’s come out of his house, and he’s standing on the edge of the sidewalk at the edge of their property line like he’s got to get some kind of permission to walk across it, like a neighborly vampire or something. It’s still early in the afternoon—trick or treating starts at three, in their neighborhood—and it’s definitely the only time that Jody can say for sure she’s seen him out in the full light of day.

She doesn’t think he’s wearing a costume—or maybe he is? The outfit’s weirdly formal, especially for trick or treating. She’s seen that beige trench coat before, it’s the one he wears over sweatpants when he’s picking up his mail. But it’s open, so at least he doesn’t look like a flasher: he’s wearing some kind of _suit_ and a plain blue tie underneath. It’s a little too big, and his tie’s kind of crooked…

He _is_ pretty, though it’s different from Dean. Well… no, not pretty, exactly. Their Dean’s all perfect eyes and perfect smile, and admiring him’s like admiring the Grand Canyon. A body just _does,_ and glories in the mercy that made it _._ But Castiel’s got all these features that probably shouldn’t fit together—eyes that fall at the corners, dimple in the chin, weird asymmetry between his upper and lower lips, hair that’s sticking up on one side, little wrinkle in his forehead. But they do, they fit real nice, and _man,_ Jody did not know those eyes were that big or that blue.

But the expression on his face is cool and very far away. She’s not sure that he’s seeing them, or even that he’s _looking_.

Admiring him is like looking at one of those glaciers in Alaska that they saw on their not-a-honeymoon cruise before they adopted Alex. It’s real gorgeous, one-of-a-kind, but there’s all these unexpected sharp edges, and a soul’s just as like to slip and fall and freeze to death on one of ‘em, slow and cold.

Oh, this is great. This is promising. Uh-huh.

But “Hello,” he says, lowering his chin, very slightly, once. And it’s deep and rumbly and grit, just like Jody thought before.

“Heya, Cas!” Dean hops over one of the candy buckets and hurries towards him, grinning. “You met Donna and Jody? No? Well, come on over.” He gestures impatiently at, well… everyone, probably. “Jody, Donna, this is Cas. Castiel Novak. Cas—Jody Mills, Donna Hanscum.”

Cas, huh? That’s cute.

“Yes. The sheriffs,” Castiel says, taking two deliberate steps forward, and then stops like he’s not sure where to go from there.

“Hey, neighbor!” Donna says, striding towards him to make up the distance and waving a hand excitedly as if he’s a block away rather than just a walkway, cute and huggable in her big fluffy costume. But even she doesn’t have a chance to hold out her hand to him—she trails off and stalls at the edge of the sidewalk when Castiel glances at her.

Even _Donna_ doesn’t have much to say to that unfriendly expression for a second.

Jody scowls at him.

Nope, no way. Never mind. Jody’s decided. He doesn’t deserve their Dean, anyway. They’ll take Dean-boy out this weekend once he’s off shift, get him plastered, throw him into some bed with some pretty young thing who likes his fireman shoulders and that sweet smile. That’ll do him

But then Castiel looks past Donna and at Dean for a little too long. It’s bright out enough that Jody can see him swallow, the ridge of it rolling down his throat until it bobs. And it’s warm enough that she sees a little of that hard, sharp ice melt, and when he turns away to meet their eyes—deliberately, one at a time, what’s under it is quieter than she expected.

Uncertain.

Maybe even a little scared.

(Maybe that just means he’s got sense. Jody would be scared of them, too, if she had any.)

“I… like your decorations,” Castiel says, carefully, gesturing at their garden of inflatables: the twelve-foot-tall lady ghost, the pumpkin reaper and Frankenstein and, Jody’s favorite, the big fluffy green animated T-rex that’s waving its teeny air-filled little arms up and down. (Who cares if it’s not exactly Halloween themed, it’s big and green and all the kids love it.)

Jody almost falls over where she was standing tense at the edge of their porch. “Uh, _thanks_ ,” she blurts.

He nods, and shifts until his weight is on one foot. It seems to mean something, though she’s not sure what, before he straightens. “I’m sorry that I haven’t been very friendly.” He looks at them through lowered eyelashes, and it’s exactly the _opposite_ of when Dean does something like that. This isn’t a man who knows how to drop panties—or boxers—with a look or a playful wink. She actually can’t even imagine him throwing a wink. “It takes me a long time to… to settle.”

Well, _that’s_ an understatement. It’s also more than he’s ever said to her _and_ Donna. Put together.

Jody doesn’t even have to look to know that her soft-hearted sunshine is already melting in the face of that quietness. She jokes that if Donna’s ever going to leave her for anyone, it’s going to be the strong, silent type, because Jody Mills is a lot of things, but she’s sure as shootin’ not _silent_.

“Oh, _honey_. Don’t you fuss about that!” Donna tells him, and, a little to Jody’s horror, she shoves playfully at his shoulder—she thinks it’s his good one, though with that too-big trenchcoat on, now she can’t remember. “But now that you’ve adjusted to our brand of hospitality, it’s a _real_ slippery slope, don’cha know. You just watch out! Next time this year, you know, you’ll be—”

He raises his hand, and—probably a little to all of their surprise—Donna actually stops to take a breath.

But Castiel actually smiles, a slight tip to the edges of his mouth. It’s… sweet. Small and maybe a little awkward and painful, but it looks like he means it. Huh. “Thank you for letting me participate,” he says, seriously. “I will try not to slip on the slope.”

Donna hoots at that, and Jody knows that there aren’t going to be any more threats of cutting off toes and fingers. They each shake his hand (it’s his right hand; Donna definitely shoved at the wrong arm). His grip is firm and serious, but he doesn’t try to crush either of their fingers like guys sometimes do with them. It’s a good handshake.

Jody, though, she’s going to reserve judgment, because, still. Who can resist their Dean?

“So I gotta know,” Dean asks, shifting eagerly from foot to foot, and sure enough, that smile of his is back in full force. His eyes are just for the icicle in an ugly trench coat. “Columbo or Constantine?”

Castiel blinks, slowly, and turns to face Dean, spreading his hand out by his side. Wait, how _did_ he even tie that tie, anyway? But with the sleeve of his trenchcoat tucked the way it is against his side, the end of it pushed into the seam, he doesn’t even look like his arm is missing from what Jody would bet is above the elbow. He just looks like he’s got a hand stuck real casual into his pocket.

“’There aren’t any good guys, and there aren’t any bad guys. There’s just us. People. Doing our best to get by,’” Castiel answers. Which makes no sense at all to Jody—and in her line of work she _has_ to believe there are good guys and there are bad guys, but most days she’s got the terrible feeling that what Castiel’s saying now is probably true.

But it must mean something to _Dean_ , because he practically punches himself up onto his tiptoes.

“Hah! I knew it, _I knew it_.” Dean grins. “You’re a closet nerd.”

Castiel answers, very dryly. “Well, if you ever thought that was a closet, you’re not looking very hard.”

Well, with the little rainbow that Alex saw hanging on his wind chimes and the way he’s peeking shyly at Dean through his dark, thick eyelashes even with that know-it-all tone through his deep voice, Jody would think not.

Dean laughs. “A graphic novel man. I see you, Cas, I see you. What, you don’t think you look like Keanu Reeves?”

“No,” Castiel answers, his voice hard, like a door stopper. Then, a little more mildly, “I don’t actually know who that is, but if he’s an actor, I’m sure I don’t look like him.”

Yeah, all that there is more words than Jody’s ever heard Castiel say _ever,_ to _anyone,_ in about three years of living next to him.

So. Huh.

They’re still talking when Castiel bobs his chin distractedly at both of them and they start wandering back towards Dean’s place—Dean may as well have forgotten they’re both alive. He’s chattering away about something to do with vertigo and Hell and demons—uh, okay? Weird, and probably also something he shouldn’t be talking about when there’s kids arriving—and towing Castiel behind him by the edge of his coat.

She and Donna exchange a long look, but then it’s hitting three o’clock, and the first little princess shows up, carried in her mother’s arms, to the tune of “Twick or Tweat!”

The three hours goes fast, especially after a van drives up that must be at least half clown car. The sun’s setting by the time their bowls are starting to run really low, and they’re starting to ration to the stragglers—Alex’ll be disappointed there’s no more mini packets of chocolate malt balls, but it’s her own damned fault for being too grown-up to come and give out candy. At least they’ve got an extra pack of lollipops in the back.

Dean’s headed towards them eagerly as soon as he’s turned off his own porch lights, six-pack in one hand and lugging one of his candy buckets—the pumpkin face on it is frowning—with the other. Castiel follows behind him, more slowly, looking like he might be coming to a firing squad. But Jody was definitely hearing his rumble and Dean actually laughing in response to it pretty much nonstop for the past few hours, so he does know how to talk.

He settles on the edge of the stool that Donna pulls up for him on the porch just as Jody’s pulling off her boots—they look amazing, but her feet get so sweaty in them—and sticking her plastic sword and big hat with its long dangly feather into the umbrella stand. Donna’s already forgiven him, whole hog—just chirps, “So, I hear this was your first proper Halloween!”

“Yes, it was… I always lived in an apartment before I moved here, and we didn’t… well, this wasn’t the custom.” He answers, and the tip of his tongue flicks out to wet dry, pink lips. He does smile, again, though, small and shy, his eyelashes flicking. “The costumes were wonderful. My favorite was those twins? The bees.” He chuckles. “Their wings were accurate!”

“Oh, geez. You and your _bees,_ Cas!” Dean snorts, popping the top on three ciders and passing them around. He raises a fourth in Castiel’s direction. “I liked the brothers who were all dressed as Batman.” He laughs. “I mean, one was Adam West, one was Michael Keaton, and one was George Clooney!”

 _All three_ of them roll their eyes at that.

Huh.

Castiel shakes his head to the cider, but he cocks his head curiously. “I don’t think you’ve told me the Superman story that you promised.”

Donna hoots. “Oh, the _Superman_ story!” She waggles her eyebrows in delight.

“You forgiven me for shaving my little brother’s eyebrow off?” Dean challenges Castiel.

Castiel blinks, long and slow, and even in their porch lights and the reflections of the dim lights off their inflatables, his eyes are extraordinary—dark drowning blue, like his crooked tie, or like the lapis that Donna wears in her ears sometimes. “I’ve never met your little brother, Dean, I can hardly forgive you or not forgive you.”

Dean snorts, but he leans in towards Castiel with a sly smile that _is_ meant to leave someone’s underpants on the floor. “Then you still gotta _earn_ the Superman story,” he croons.

Castiel, though Jody would have thought it was impossible an hour ago, practically _sniffs_. He looks unimpressed.

But he’s tilting a little towards Dean, on his stool, too.

Jody and Donna exchange a long look. Right. No chemistry, not the problem.

“So, uh, Castiel. I gotta ask,” Donna begins, excitedly, her dark eyes twinkling and her eyebrows tilting high with excitement under her fox-ear hood.

Jody watches Castiel’s handsome face, just barely starting to open up, slam closed right into a tense wall of instant shutdown. Dean grips the neck of his cider bottle tight and straightens on his stool, going all tense and bright and sharp like he’s about to launch between his sweetheart and Donna if she says one word outta anyone’s comfort zone.

Yeah, they don’t know her Donna.

“So-o-o, why’s a big fancy writer like you hiding out in the boonies here with us simple folk?” Donna asks, sticking her thumbs into the pockets of her big warm fox onesie and grinning. “We ain’t really got any inspiration here for those big city murder novels of yours!”

That leaves Castiel blinking, his lips just a little parted, and the tense rise of his shoulders drops, unthreatening. He didn’t think that was what Donna was about to ask. Jody’s got a pretty good idea she knows what he thought. “Oh. I…” then he frowns, and turns a long look at Dean, all accusing eyebrows and sad mouth, head tipped just a little to the side.

That’s actually worse than the cold hint of ice that came back to his face earlier.

It’s _adorable_.

“Wait—hey, don’t look at me like that, _I_ didn’t tell her!” Dean protests, flapping a hand hard enough that he almost spills his drink.

“Oh, sure as shootin’ you did, Dean Winchester!” Donna shoots back. “You called him ‘James Novak’ right at his door, and didn’t that just get me and Jodes here to thinkin’, isn’t that the guy who writes all those mysteries they’ve got on the, you know.” She starts making little rectangles with the wave of her hand. “Those little shelves everywhere. Like in the airports and train stations and such.”

Well, that’s probably the best way that Jody’s heard of anyone calling anyone a famous author, and so what if her smile at Donna’s a little sappy? She’s got that right.

It looks like Donna has every plan of completely forgetting that they were both _intentionally_ watching through the living room window—yes, Jody can admit currently that she was definitely there for it and she _meant_ to be—when that happened. Or that Donna _sent_ him over there in the first place.

Dean’s never questioned it. Jody hopes he’s forgotten, or that maybe Castiel _is_ some kind of really good cook or something, and maybe they’re trading recipes.

“Wait, you _heard_ that?” Dean yelps.

Jody snorts. “Dean, you said it loud enough that Kacper Karpinski might’ve heard it on the other side, and he’s so deaf he doesn’t hear when his granddaughter honks to be let in.”

It’s even true.

Dean backtracks so fast Jody’s surprised he doesn’t topple backwards right off the stool, and drinks his next gulp of cider too quickly. They all pause for a second to let him get the bubbles out of his nose. Jody thinks Castiel’s hand twitches upwards and moves in to think about rubbing Dean’s back before he yanks it back to his side.

“I mean, um,” Dean mumbles, once he’s done coughing. “I—that’s gotta be a common name, right? I musta just, uh…”

“Uffda, now you’re just getting sad,” Donna says, mournfully.

(Since it’s true, Jody’s not going to answer the betrayed look Dean shoots at her.)

“Dean, okay, stop,” Castiel sighs, and wipes his hand down his face. “Yes, I’m James Novak. I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t spread that around, please. Part of the reason I moved here is because I’ve come to prefer the quiet.”

“Oh, for sure! Nothing like life out here for peace and quiet and growing a family and all,” Jody agrees. “Getting to know folks slow, that’s the way to make something that lasts.”

Dean’s eyelashes flicker, catching the gold of the porch light. He doesn’t look at her. Neither of them do.

“They’re really good, though, your books! Alex has all of ‘em. Or most, there are a lot,” Donna offers, enthusiastically. “I think I read one once.”

Jody laughs. Donna might be fooling the boys, but she wouldn’t fool anyone else. “ _And_ another two since we heard,” she admits. And she might’ve stayed up a little too late finishing the last one after Donna was done with it. “We got curious. They’re great!”

This time, Castiel smiles for real, and it’s… _well now_ , isn’t that a dimple to behold?

“Oh. Thank you,” he says, and this time, it’s warm and shy for real. “I enjoy writing them.”

Dean beams like he was responsible for the creation of the man’s muse, and reaches down to scoop up a handful of sweets remaining from the bottom of his bucket—a mix of full-size KitKats and Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup pumpkins, the big ones. Some parents are going to be out cursing his name to the full moon tonight, Jody thinks. “Amen to that, ‘cause you kick ass,” Dean says, gleefully, and Jody really thinks he somehow _misses_ the hint of pink that rises to Castiel’s cheeks, at that. “That deserves chocolate. Here, you pick. You want the last KitKat?”

“I don’t really care for chocolate,” Castiel says, and there’s something a little apologetic to it.

Jody stares. Okay, she was just sort of starting to like him, but now maybe he’s unnatural.

“Oh, well, that’s okay, then!” Donna answers, cheerfully as ever, and shoves a lollipop at him. “You ought to have a sucker, then. We got the good ‘uns!”

(Okay, so Dean’s not the only one who went a little overboard on the candy. It’s a point of pride in their neighborhood, okay? Besides, _they_ had to deal with a kid who was hopped up on a whole box of Nerds and enough SweetTarts to pickle a cucumber not that many Halloweens ago! It’s everyone else’s turn, now.)

Castiel takes the lolly before it hits his chest—it’s a red one; Donna gave him one of her favorites, isn’t that just like Jody’s girl?—and looks down at it in its little plastic wrapper. Then he half-smiles, looking resigned. He twirls it gently in his fingers by its stick.

“Thank you,” he says.

That’s about when Jody realizes that they didn’t buy those cheap Dum Dum tiny things that just slip out of their paper wrappers.

And just how many hands it probably takes to pick open an annoyingly sealed gourmet lollipop plastic.

“Nuh-uh, you can’t tell me you don’t like sweets, Cas,” Dean says, sternly, just as Donna must realize the same thing as Jody did. Her dark eyes are wide, and a little horrified, her lips curved in a silent _uffda_ , because as often as Donna sticks her foot in her mouth—less often than Dean, who really must have a taste for shoe leather—no-one’s ever been able to call her ‘insensitive,’ either. “You ate the _hell_ out of those toffee apples. And not liking chocolate, what’s wrong with you? Gimme that, you’ll ruin your appetite.”

He plucks the lollipop out of Castiel’s fingers, and plops a Reese’s—also not opened—into the cup of his hand instead.

Castiel blinks very slowly, but no slower than Jody and Donna are. Maybe not for the same reason. Or, at least, Jody hopes not. “I’ll… ruin my appetite,” he repeats, then squints at the bright orange packaging in his hand like he’s having trouble reading it.

“Yes,” Dean says, firmly, and slips the sucker into the pocket of Castiel’s trench coat. “You can have that later, but right now, you will ruin your appetite for chocolate if you eat it.”

“I am _very_ suspicious of your logic,” Castiel grumbles, looking down at the chocolate in his hand. (Jody is, too, but if Dean’s going to cover for them being thoughtless, she’s not going to argue.) But in the end, he shrugs and neatly tears open the length of one side with his teeth. Then he flips it so he’s holding the edge of the wrapper between his lips, and lets the flat round blob fall into his palm. Then pinches the empty wrapper between his fingers.

He's… deft about it, is the only way Jody can put it. It’s quick and easy, the motion of his lips and teeth and fingers all together, automatic and practiced as using chopsticks or spinning a pen around fingers.

Castiel studies the piece of chocolate with a little wrinkle between his eyebrows. “Oh. It’s a pumpkin.”

Donna’s just about got hearts in her eyes, and Jody’s not sure if it’s because of Dean’s save letting them _all_ save face, or because, well. If Castiel swings in _that_ direction, Jody’s definitely going to be a little (mostly jokingly) worried. Donna has a thing for a guy with a nicely shaped mouth and a couple of quirks here and there.

(Personally, Jody thinks that’s why her taste in men has always been so terrible.)

“It’s peanut butter, and I’ve seen you eat that by the _spoonful_ ,” Dean answers, and eagerly tears open his own.

“Mm,” Castiel notes, after his first careful nibble of the edge of the pumpkin. He takes another, bigger one. “Oh,” he murmurs. “I like this very much. It has a pleasant texture.”

They’re not even pretending they’re not all watching him.

“Doesn’t like _chocolate_ , pfft,” Dean mutters, but under it, his voice is so happy it’s a little hard to hear. He crams the rest of his Reese’s pumpkin in his mouth and mumbles around it, sticky with peanut butter filling. God, he’s really disgusting sometimes. “Y’know, sometimes you just say shit and I think we can’t be friends.”

He doesn’t mean it. There is not a person sitting on that porch—including Castiel, from the way Castiel is smiling at Dean like he’s forgotten there’s anyone else sitting with them—who believes that he does.

“You keep threatening that,” Castiel says in a very soft voice, and the rumbly touch of wonder in it is even achier. “But yet you keep coming back.”

Okay, so.

So Dean’s a beautiful idiot, clearly, and Jody doesn’t know what the hell he’s thinking.

Jody sighs, later that night, and towels her hair dry. “Damn,” she mutters. And then, more loudly, “ _Damn_. Cute as puppies and just as likely to figure out what parts go where.”

Donna hooks her chin over Jody’s shoulder. “You said it, Jodes,” she agrees, with an annoyed waft of breath at Jody’s neck. Her arms settle, warm and strong, over Jody’s bare hips, and cross over her bellybutton. “So who d’you think’s the problem?”

“You think there’s just _one_ problem?” Jody snorts, and strokes her partner’s soft-skinned forearm with a thumb. Just ‘cause it’s there. “Either Dean thinks he’s straight or not interested, and Castiel… well, I don’t have the foggiest what Castiel believes, but you and me both know that taking an injury like that messes with a man.”

If it is an injury—though from the way Castiel holds his body so straight, Jody would put money on it.

“Mm-hmm,” Donna agrees.

“Now I’m scared if one of us so much as _breathes_ on the two of them we’ll break something in their brains,” Jody sighs. “Boyos are so fragile sometimes.”

Castiel’s sunshine isn’t anything like Dean’s. Dean’s sky is pretty cloudless. In Castiel? The light just peeks out a little, here and there. But it’s still _there_ , and it’s still warm. Like Jody’s ma always told her, just ‘cause the sun isn’t out doesn’t mean it won’t come back.

She can feel Donna blinking. “So-o-o-o…” She makes the words into three syllables and a breakfast donut besides. “You’re saying I shouldn’t be pestering them anymore and we should just leave ‘em be?” Donna sounds disappointed, but resigned.

She’ll do it, too.

(Maybe. Sometimes even Jody underestimates how stubborn Donna can be. Current evidence: Jody _was_ kneeling on the couch beside her watching the disaster that was that first meeting.)

Jody smiles.

“Not a damned chance.”

~fin~

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, once we're at the point of five stories I think we're at the point this AU needs a name, and I want something better than the Neighbors AU. The Dragon and the Knight? Hmmm...


End file.
